


Friends With Benefits

by Kithri



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithri/pseuds/Kithri
Summary: Sometimes Hope and Natasha blow off a little steam together when they find themselves in the same place at the same time. It's just some no strings attached fun, no feelings involved. Until there are.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Hope Van Dyne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Friends With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



“So that could’ve gone better,” Natasha drawled, draping herself over the ratty couch. Like everything in the run-down little apartment, the couch had seen better days.

_Then again,_ Hope reflected, as the smell of scorched plastic and singed hair tickled her nostrils, _so have we._ “It could’ve gone worse.”

After briefly contemplating the mismatched armchairs, she crossed the room to join Natasha on the couch.

“Hey, I was here first.”

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you to share?”

Too late, Hope remembered that could be a sensitive subject. Fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case right now, because Natasha merely graced her with a lopsided smirk and stretched, catlike and languid.

“Maybe I just want to make you work for it.”

Heat bloomed inside Hope at Natasha’s low, teasing words, at the way the stretch displayed her slender, athletic body to its full advantage. Covering her reaction — because ceding the game in the first round was simply no fun at all — Hope arched an eyebrow. “Good thing I’ve never been afraid of hard work.” From the way Natasha’s grin widened, Hope’s reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed after all, but whatever retort she was planning remained unspoken as a faint grimace flickered over her face. “What’s wrong?” Hope demanded sharply, all distractions forgotten as her gaze roamed, cataloguing the sweat on Natasha’s brow; the paler than usual hue of her skin.

“It’s nothing,” Natasha demurred, because of course she damn well did, and Hope fixed her with the stern gaze she’d used to intimidate terrorists, gangsters and all manner of ne’er do wells. Natasha, of course, was unfazed.

“Then tell me about it.”

Natasha sighed loudly and dramatically, making a big production out of rolling her eyes. “Fine, Mom. I got clipped during the firefight. Nothing serious. I’ll take care of it in a minute.”

“Let me see.” Hope’s tone, clipped and professional, belied the sudden chill running down her spine; the way her fingers itched to pull aside Natasha’s clothing so she could see how bad the damage was with her own two eyes. That it was worse than Natasha claimed went without saying: the only question was, how much worse was it? And, once this had been dealt with and she could breathe again and her pulse had stopped pounding like a runaway train, just how mad would she have to get?

Natasha’s mouth turned down stubbornly, because of course it did, but instead of arguing — and wasn’t the lack of protest a bad sign? — she huffed out a resigned breath and got to her feet, turning so that Hope could see her side. The armour there was torn, and when she pulled the edges apart, Hope could see that the skin beneath was tacky with drying blood. _Drying is good,_ she told herself, even as the beginnings of panic sparked and jittered along her nerves. _Drying means she’s not bleeding out._

Forcing aside the less than helpful jitters, Hope stood up and strode purposefully across the room to retrieve the first aid kit. “Go to the bathroom and strip,” she ordered as she checked over the contents, relieved to see that everything was there.

“Why, Ms Van Dyne, how forward of you. At least buy me dinner first.”

Despite her worry, Hope found the corners of her mouth turning up at the corners, just a little. “How about I buy you dinner after I’ve made sure you’re not going to keel over from blood loss?”

“I’ll hold you to that. And since we’re playing doctor…” Natasha strolled right up to Hope, so close Hope could feel her breath on her face, and the proximity — together with Natasha’s sultry drawl and her heavy-lidded come-hither eyes — made the heat from earlier stir again. But then Natasha’s whole demeanour changed on a dime, the seductress becoming the no nonsense agent again as she said, crisply, “You can let me take a look at that injury of yours you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist.”

Despite being caught on the back foot, Hope nonetheless drew herself up, holding Natasha’s gaze. “What do you mean?” she asked flatly. In lieu of words, Natasha reached out and slowly trailed her fingertips over Hope’s face, down her neck and along her collarbone, hovering just over a certain spot on her shoulder. Hope held in a wince, although whether it was from embarrassment at being caught out or the sudden awareness of the pain she’d been ignoring, she didn’t care to speculate. “Oh, that. It’s nothing serious.”

“Then I should be able to take care of it quickly.” Natasha’s tone brooked no argument.

There was a part of Hope that wanted to argue anyway, out of habit — or maybe pride — but she reluctantly pushed that part aside to say, “Fine.”

It turned out that the tiny bathroom wasn’t really designed to accommodate two people, much less when they were both trying to undress. After the fifth or sixth time one of them had narrowly avoided an accidental headbutt, kick or elbow to the face, Hope lost patience.

“Just stand still and let me undress you,” she burst out. “And then you can do the same for me.”

“I love it when you take charge.”

That startled a laugh out of Hope, and she couldn’t help pressing a kiss to the side of Natasha’s neck, and then another one, and then a third with just a hint of teeth, gratified when Natasha shivered against her, breath hitching.

“Is that so?” she murmured against Natasha’s skin. “Does that mean you’re going to do as you’re told for once?”

Natasha laughed, low and delighted. “Where would be the fun in that?”

“Where indeed?” Hope agreed.

She carefully divested Natasha of her clothing, Natasha returning the favour once she’d done. Despite the electricity that seemed to flicker in the air between them, sparking with every brush of skin on skin, both of them managed to keep their hands from wandering.

_Priorities,_ Hope reminded herself, ignoring the faint pang of disappointment. But she set all that aside when she began her examination. “Your injury seems to be relatively shallow,” she reported with some relief. “And I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“Told you.”

Hope rolled her eyes, but continued with her assessment. “Looks like you were damn lucky, though. There’s a lot of bruising, and you’re going to be sore for a while.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse.”

“I know. I can see the scars.” She couldn’t help tracing one of them now: an old bullet wound by the looks of it. She’d wondered about it before, had thought about asking, but this was the first time she could bring herself to say, “This looks like a story.”

“Perhaps another time. Anyway, now it’s your turn.”

Hope wasn’t sure why the dismissal stung. _It’s not any of my business,_ she reminded herself. They were colleagues and occasional friends with benefits; nothing more. _Anyway, this isn’t the time._

Embarrassed by her faux pas, she found herself rambling as she acquiesced to Natasha’s examination. “One of the engineers came at me with a welding torch, of all things, while I was busy with the guards. It didn’t get through my suit, thankfully.” Her father would never let her hear the end of it if she got the precious suit damaged helping out an Avenger. _Well, former Avenger._ Not that the distinction would matter to her father.

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “Looks like it’s just a surface burn, nothing too serious. The ends of your hair are a little singed, though.”

“Ugh, I know.” She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as she got to the part that was lightly crisped. “I’m going to have to tell the hairdresser I overdid it with the straighteners.” The thought rankled. If there was one thing she hated, it was being thought incompetent.

“I can trim it for you if you like.”

Hope twisted around to meet Natasha’s gaze, raising an eyebrow. “You know how to cut hair? Wait, what am I thinking — of course you do.”

“Of course.” The merest hint of a smirk ghosted across Natasha’s lips, but all she said was, “But first we need to clean and dress that burn.”

“And that cut of yours,” Hope said sternly.

“Fine, whatever.” Natasha rolled her eyes, and then eyed Hope speculatively. “I could just shower. That would be easier, right?”

An image of Natasha, water cascading over her bare skin, flashed into Hope’s mind. She swallowed discreetly, effecting a careless tone. “I suppose it would.”

Natasha’s smirk returned. “Want to join me?”

_Yes,_ Hope narrowly refrained from saying. She eyed the narrow bath dubiously. “Is there room for both of us?”

“Well,” Natasha all-but purred, pressing up against Hope. “We’d have to get pretty close. Think you can handle that?”

“I can handle anything you can throw at me,” Hope shot back, anticipation making heat pool low in her belly.

“We’ll see.”

As it happened, there was room for both of them. Just about.

“The water pressure is great,” Hope said lightly, her gaze following the path of the water over Natasha’s shoulders and down her back. “I’m surprised.”

“Because the apartment’s so crappy?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Natasha laughed. “I would. It’s just a safe house though, it’s not like I live here.”

_Where do you live?_ Hope wondered, but of course she knew better than to ask such a question. That wasn’t the kind of relationship they had.

They showered in silence for a few minutes, passing shower gel and shampoo bottles back and forth. Hope was so focused on trying not to stare at Natasha that it took her a moment to realise that Natasha had half-turned and was watching her.

“What?” Hope asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha murmured. “I was just thinking. We haven’t had sex in the shower yet, have we?”

“No. No, we haven’t.”

Natasha reached out and lightly palmed Hope’s breast. The shock of the contact jolted through Hope’s body, making her breath catch in her throat. She felt her nipple stiffen under the gentle touch. Without consciously deciding to move, she slid her fingers over Natasha’s wet skin, clasping the taut curve of Natasha’s ass with one hand while slipping the other between her thighs. Natasha let out a soft sound, almost a moan, and then surged forward to kiss Hope hungrily. They continued to explore each other with their hands and mouths, Hope’s world narrowing until the only thing in it was Natasha…

And then she inhaled at the wrong moment as she kissed her way down Natasha’s body, choking on a mouthful of shower water.

“Are you o— Shit!” Natasha yelped, her feet skidding out from under her. Hope grabbed for her even as coughs continued to racked her body, succeeding only in nearly losing her own balance. Luckily Natasha, with her catlike reflexes, managed to catch herself before she went ass over apex, but a pained sound escaped her lips.

“Are you okay?” Hope managed to get out between coughs. “How’s your side?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just pulled a little. Now, where were we?” Natasha smirked down at Hope, but there was a tightness around her eyes that made Hope’s heart beat faster for entirely different reasons than a few moments ago.

“I think maybe there’s a reason we haven’t had sex in the shower before,” she said lightly, carefully disentangling herself from Natasha. “Let’s get a dressing on that wound of yours and relocate to the bedroom?”

“Spoilsport,” Natasha muttered, pouting, but she obligingly reached up to turn off the shower and followed Hope out of the tub.

“We can try the shower another time,” Hope said as they dried off. “Preferably somewhere more spacious, and when neither of us are injured.”

“Promise?”

That wasn’t what they did. That wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. _She doesn’t mean anything by that. She’s just flirting._ But it felt like something more when Hope echoed, “Promise.”

A short while later, when injuries had been tended to and they sat next to each other on the bed, Natasha leaned in to press a kiss to Hope’s lips. “Now, where were we?”

Picking up where they left off proved to be the easiest thing in the world.

Sometime later, the two of them sprawled together in a tangle of limbs; spent and sated. For once, the little voice that whispered at the back of Hope’s mind — _can’t stop, have to keep moving; so much to do and so little time_ — was still. She drew in a deep breath; let it out in a soft sigh, feeling her heartbeat slow and her muscles relax for what felt like the first time in forever. Time seemed to stretch like taffy, suspending her in an eternal moment like a fly caught in Amber. She didn’t feel trapped, though. She felt… safe. The air was cool against her sweat-slicked skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach for the duvet; afraid to break the spell of this moment. _Just a few more minutes,_ she promised herself. Just a few more minutes, and then she could—

The bed creaked; Natasha’s body shifting against hers before she rolled away, the cold air rushing in to fill the absence she left behind. _Oh,_ Hope thought numbly, disappointment stabbing through her chest. But it was probably for the best. She did have things to do, after all. _I should probably—_

Her train of thought ground to a halt as, rather than leaving, Natasha curled up against her, drawing the duvet up to cover them both.

“ ’S cold in here,” Natasha murmured into the back of her neck, sliding one arm around Hope’s middle and pressing their bodies together.

“Let me guess,” Hope said, the dry tone she’d been aiming for softened by the warmth blooming in her chest. “The heating doesn’t work.”

“It does. But I’d have to get up.”

Without consciously deciding to move, Hope found herself shifting to settle more comfortably against Natasha; clasping Natasha’s hand and bringing it to her lips to press a kiss to the calloused knuckles.

“Sounds like far too much effort.”

“Exactly.”

Silence settled over them like the duvet, just as warm and soft and comfortable, and yet Hope couldn’t help disturbing it; couldn’t help blurting out the question that had been nagging at her ever since Natasha’s call.

“Did you really need my help with this mission?”

There was a long pause, and then, “Need is a strong word. But better safe than sorry, right?” Another pause, long enough that Hope thought that was the end of it, but then she whispered, “And maybe I wanted to see you.”

_Oh._ Hope took a deep breath, her namesake fluttering inside her like butterfly wings. “You know, you could’ve just called. I would’ve come even if there weren’t any bad guys to beat up.”

“Good to know.” Natasha’s words were light, but she tightened her embrace, planting a kiss on the nape of Hope’s neck. “It might be nice to spend some time together without anyone shooting at us.” Another kiss. “And you did promise to buy me dinner.”

“I did. And I always keep my promises.”

“It’s a date, then?”

That warm feeling grew and grew until Hope felt lighter than air. She kissed Natasha’s hand again.

“It’s a date.”


End file.
